Page 23 of Two Blessings For His Duchess
Even though the entity was clearly the size of a child, the sheer shock of the sight made Euphemia unleash a loud but short scream that echoed off the high walls of the bedchamber. In the dim light, the child’s skin looked terrifyingly translucent, and her face was cast in deep, eerie shadows that looked entirely otherworldly.
Euphemia yelled again, lifting the candlestick in a defensive posture, until her eyes finally adjusted to the gloom. The tight knot of supernatural terror in her chest suddenly shifted into profound confusion and worry.
As she stared at the intruder, the phantom features resolved themselves into a strikingly familiar face. It was the distinct set of the jaw and the sharp brow that had the exact, undeniable resemblance to Cordelia, the other child she had already met and spoken with in the conservatory.
“Georgianna?” she asked, noting that it wasn’t Cordelia. She knew what Cordelia looked like.
The little girl did not answer. She stood frozen just inside the doorway, her small fingers locked tightly around the brass handle of the lantern. Her wide, pale eyes were fixed on Euphemia, but they carried an unsettlingly vacant stare, as if she were looking right through her.
Euphemia swallowed and lowered the silver candlestick a fraction of an inch, though her knuckles remained white. The adrenaline was still pumping furiously through her veins, making the room tilt slightly.
On one hand, she was relieved that it wasn’t a ghost trying to pry her door open in the middle of the night. But on the other hand, she was not so sure she should be relieved. Georgianna looked so small, so remarkably still, and yet there was something intensely unnerving about the way she stood there. She had a cracked porcelain doll clutched to her chest that felt less like a toy and more like an extension of the girl’s own silent, unbreakable armor.
She took a slow breath, trying to smooth the tremble out of her voice as she took a cautious step forward.
“Georgianna, sweetheart,” Euphemia murmured, keeping her tone as gentle as humanly possible. “What are you doing out of bed? Are you lost?”
The child didn’t blink. The silence stretched between them, punctuated only by the faint hiss of the lantern flame. Then, with an abruptness that made Euphemia flinch, Georgianna finally moved. She took a single step back toward the dark hallway.
“Georgianna, wait,” Euphemia said softly, carefully easing her legs out from under the quilts. “You shouldn’t be wandering the corridors alone at this hour. Let me help you back to your room.”
Euphemia climbed out of bed and crossed toward the door, her bare feet pressing against the cold floorboards. When she got close enough that the lantern light caught her face properly, Georgianna flinched, taking a small, involuntary step backward, which caused Euphemia to stop dead in her tracks.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, trying to project as much warmth as possible. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
She stayed exactly where she was so she could look at the child properly, noting her bare feet on the cold stone, her loose, tangled hair. Behind the little girl, the cavernous corridor stretched out dark and completely empty.
There was no sign of a governess, no hurried footsteps of a nursemaid, and absolutely no one else in sight.
Euphemia looked past her in both directions, but she encountered nothing but shadows. Whoever was supposed to be watching the girls at night was either fast asleep or entirely unaware that one of them was currently standing in her doorway at what had to be close to two in the morning.
She brought her eyes back to Georgianna. “What are you doing up so late?”
The child offered nothing in response.
“Are you hungry, or do you need something?” Euphemia tried again.
Still, the little girl remained entirely silent.
“Is your sister —” She stopped herself, rephrasing the question more carefully. “Is Cordelia all right?”
“Stay away from my sister.”
Euphemia blinked in surprise at the sudden venom in the child’s tone.
“Cordelia,” Georgianna repeated as she stared ahead. “Stay away from her because she is mine.”
Euphemia studied her closely, noting how hard her jaw was set, the small arms locked tightly around the doll, and the wide eyes doing their best to appear fierce. Yet, she was not entirely managing to look intimidating because beneath all of that armor, the little girl was trembling just slightly.
The poor girl was absolutely terrified.
In that moment, the entire situation finally made sense to Euphemia as she considered the bare feet, the dark corridor, the ungodly hour, and the way the child was gripping that doll as though it were the only solid thing left available to her in the world.
She had clearly had a terrible nightmare, and in that nightmare, Euphemia suspected, she herself had featured rather prominently as the monster.
Euphemia’s first instinct was to fix it.
That was always her first instinct... find the problem, smooth it over, make it better. But the problem here was a frightened ten-year-old and she wasn’t sure if the same routine would work.
